Sunrise
by Nicor Warg-Fyrweorm
Summary: It was an impossibility. Not real. These things just didn't HAPPEN on Earth. Until it did. After an unexpected deactivation, the Decepticons find themselves with a void larger than a power imbalance and no idea how to fix it. Meanwhile, trouble brews on Cybertron in the form of Shockwave's newest experiment, ready to be sent to Earth to tip the balance of the war once more.
1. Falling Stars

"Surrender, Megatron!"

"Never, Prime! You should know by now that the only way you'll survive the end of this war is by surrendering yourself! And don't worry, I _will_ make sure you function. For a time."

Instead of answering, Optimus punches him in the faceplates.

Really, he should have expected it.

It's painfully obvious that Earth has done them no good, locking them into these pathetic stalemates where nothing ever _happens_.

Oh, one day the Decepticons have the upper servo, the next it's the Autobots, then one plan seems to go better, almost working perfectly, but _something_ always ruins it.

Sometimes, it's the Autobots. Others, it's their human pets. And some others…

Jet turbines roar overhead before cluster bombs explode almost painfully close to the two grappling leaders.

"Starscream!" He hollers, punching Prime back to buy enough time to find the white and red Seeker swooping overhelm again, shooting his null-rays into the fray of Autobots and Decepticons close by.

When he doesn't get fired back, his Second transforms, hovering in midair with the same ease Megatron stands on solid ground, but far more regal.

Seekers are the lords of the skies, and Starscream is king over them all.

And the glitch _knows_ it.

"My apologies, _Mighty_ Megatron. Did I distract you from your trash-talking?"

Infuriating, self-centered, ambitious, glitch-ridden—

"Is that supposed to—"

"No, it's _not_!"

He knows that voice. Every Autobot, Decepticon and even the lowliest of organic vermin from Earth to Cybertron and beyond knows that voice. And every single one of them knows that when one hears those words spoken by that voice, you throw yourself to the ground and pray you're out of the blast radius.

He spares a quick look at the Autobot inventor, fins almost white as he jerks the glowing and crackling gun up, so that it's no longer pointing at the battlefield—

An almost blinding ray of light surges from its barrel as it explodes, fortunately missing the fighting troops—

Starscream barely turns around before he's engulfed by the ray, his startled shriek cutting short as a new explosion of light finally has Megatron offlining his optics and turning his helm away.

In the silence caused by the explosion, the crash is far too loud.

The Decepticon leader turns to the sound, rebooting his optics to recalibrate them to the once more normal light levels.

And wishes he hadn't looked.

Energon is boiling a murky brown, mixed with oils and lubricants as it spurts out of broken lines, wires twitching with stray electrical impulses as metal slowly melts down white red struts, tensile cables curled on themselves at the lack of an anchoring point, not a hint of glass-metal left on the frame.

Or what remains of it.

Starscream looks almost peaceful, optic sockets black and faceplate relaxed, mouth slightly open to allow a trail of smoke through, his remaining servo lying on disturbed and blackened earth with the dactyls slightly curled, as if he was gripping something.

There are no legs, no stomach. Only half of the chest, one wing, one arm and the helm.

All of it is deactivated gray.

And then, a flicker of light through a crack in a layered sphere in what should've been the middle of the torso catches the warlord's attention, and his fuel pump starts working again.

The spark chamber, blackened and scratched and slightly cracked.

The only light that could come from inside is that of a spark.

Starscream still functions.

"Blitzwing! Get him to Shockwave _now_!" He roars, pointing at the closest of his Decepticons and gesturing to the still active Space Bridge they'd been trying to protect.

Not wasting a nanoklik, the Triple Changer practically flies to the Seeker's remains, scooping him up and disappearing through the tower of light before Megatron recovers the footing he hadn't realized he'd lost.

When he whirls around, Prime's optics pale before the blue and red mech hastily steps away.

"Autobots retreat!"

What an irony, that the words he'd been waiting so long to hear come at a time when he can't really enjoy them.

Prime rushes to where his accursed inventor is laying in stasis, a bit charred and with cracked plating, but intact, and is gone almost before his trailer doors close after the Medic gets the damaged mech inside, none of the other Autobots staying longer than it takes them to transform.

The Space Bridge powers down.

Still with half of the Energon cubes meant for Cybertron with them, the Decepticons return to the _Victory_ in eerie silence.

When Thundercracker, Skywarp, Thrust, Onslaught, Motormaster, Scrapper and the Reflector Gestalt step into the bridge after Soundwave and himself, Megatron doesn't say anything.

He just sits on his throne and waits.

Judging by how the rest are also intently staring at the black screen, they're all waiting for the same.

Time ticks by without the warlord even bothering to monitor, and tension grows.

Until, with a pained shriek, Skywarp falls to his knees, Thundercracker staring into empty air with his frame shaking badly enough that the weakest breeze could topple him.

Spark tightening, Megatron looks away, back to the screen, and refuses to acknowledge the sobs and plating tingling.

No.

It can't be.

Not half a breem later, the screen comes to life, and the Decepticon leader has just one thing for the purple mech on it.

"Starscream?"

And Shockwave only has one word to answer.

"Deactivated."

Thundercracker falls to his knees, and Skywarp buries himself in his Trinemate's embrace.

Thrust slowly lowers himself next to them, resting supportive servos between quivering wings, looking dazed.

Onslaught stumbles back until he's leaning against a wall, and slowly slides down to be sitting like a pile of disjointed parts, visor pale in disbelief.

Motormaster shakes his helm softly, turning to his leader with insecurity and doubt, servos clenching closed and opening over and over again.

Scrapper rests a servo against the side of his bowed helm, muttering softly to himself as he stares at nothing.

The Reflector Gestalt grab each others' servos as they simply watch, though they step closer to themselves.

Soundwave bows his helm, visor offline, and clenched servos trembling where they are pressed against the communications console.

Megatron turns to look at that spot at his right as if he could see the mech straightening proudly, straining his audials to catch the scoffs of that high pitched voice as blue servos cross against an orange cockpit.

_"Please, as if it was so easy to get rid of me. I will be leader of the Decepticons!"_

But there's nothing.

Only empty space and the sounds of a broken Trine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I know, I know. I have more than enough ideas before starting yet another one, but I've had this one in my head for months (almost a year now), and the only reason I hadn't written it already was because I didn't really know how to tackle it. But inspiration came and who am I to deny it? Besides, it was starting to give me a headache.

So, there you have it. I can't promise regular updates, but I'll try. Any ideas, different POVs, missing scences you'd like to see (even if there isn't much to request as of now) are more than welcome, and I promise I'll try to make them a reality.

Now, excuse me while I go curl into a corner for having killed one of my favorite characters.


	2. And the War Rages On

Some orns, it just doesn't pay to get out of recharge.

"Is that…?"

"Starscream's frame." Shockwave answers with his usual calm and lack of emotions, just before he rips out something from the grayed out Cybertronian on the table with a loud shriek of metal. "Unfortunately, it seems there's nothing that can be salvaged."

Unseen by the higher-ranking Decepticon, Acid Storm winces.

Starscream is deactivated, less than half of him on a table of Shockwave's laboratory to be dismantled and thrown into a box.

"Nothing?" He repeats, if just to distract himself from the fact that _Starscream is deactivated_.

"Nothing. Not even the processor. The energy that destroyed his frame melted it, and the surviving chips are all blank, any and all data deleted by the surge."

The Seeker turns away when the scientist slowly peels open the spark chamber, observing it curiously.

Starscream is—

"Why did you call me here?" He asks, cutting that trail of thought as quickly and ruthlessly as possible.

"I informed you of an ongoing project involving the manufacturing of new soldiers." Despite Shockwave not looking at him, Acid Storm nods.

"You said you had refined the frames but had no way to stabilize a spark. That's why Megatron went after Vector Sigma to get the Stunticons." He answers, tilting his helm curiously.

"Precisely. Fortunately, one of my trials has been successful. Creation of new Decepticons is a very real possibility."

The Seeker shudders.

"Creation? I thought you said—"

"I meant the term in its most basic definition, not as the act of obtaining a new spark from an existing one. The studies of the remnants of Vector Sigma proved extremely useful."

"Oh. Right." He mumbles, hiding a shiver as his confusion is cleared. "And are they going to be… real?"

"Explain yourself." For the first time since he walked through the door, Shockwave looks up at his Air Commander.

"If they aren't Vector Sigma created, or from another spark… Will they be _real_ Cybertronian? Won't they be spark-powered drones?"

"They will not. In fact, the subject has demonstrated a great deal of personality and the spark coding is—"

"Whoa! The _subject_? You have one already?!"

If Shockwave had a face and real emotions, he would look _not amused_.

As it is, he just stops to stare at a startled Acid Storm.

"Did you believe I had called you here just to inform you of the advancements of my work?" And if that isn't a deadpanned voice, Shockwave style, the Seeker will eat his wings.

"No, of course not. I just… didn't really expect you had one up and about already. I thought you wanted to conduct some more tests or… something."

"Negative. All tests that could have been conducted have already been taken care of, and the results are satisfactory. The subject is to be integrated in the Decepticon forces to proceed with its development."

"Sure. Alright. I'll talk with Razorclaw about its placement with the grunts, Primus knows we need more firepower and a processor better developed than a drone's."

"You will do no such thing."

"Huh?"

"The subject will be integrated in the Air Forces, directly under your supervision."

"Directly under my—what? You mean to tell me it's a _Flier_?" Acid Storm almost exclaims, startled, as Shockwave returns to his grisly job.

"Seeker model of the Seeker frame type."

The world stops.

And then, red optics slowly drift to the gray frame under the scientist's busy servo.

"When, exactly, did you say you managed to get that spark?" He asks with his best detached voice, and Shockwave doesn't even twitch.

"Three orns ago." Acid Storm relaxes visibly. "It took some time for the spark to stabilize, so I only managed its transfer to the frame last orn but the integration has been successful. However, there's a glitch in its processor."

The Air Commander groans.

"Of course there is. What am I going to have to deal with?"

"A messenger of Primus."

"A _what_?!"

"It believes itself to be a gift of Primus, and is an avid follower of the Covenant. I suggest you keep your swearing to a minimum around the subject." Acid Storm covers his faceplate with his servos to muffle another groan.

"Just _great_. Anything else I should know?"

"It is created to inflict damage to great numbers of enemies at the same time using elevated levels of radiation."

Silence.

"You're giving me a _radioactive bomb_?!"

"I am doing no such thing. I am _ordering_ you to observe and direct one more soldier." And Shockwave turns to look at him again, single yellow optic shining threateningly from the shadows cast by his own helm. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." He answers with as much calm as he can manage, standing at attention, and earns himself a gesture towards the back of the lab.

"The subject is waiting for you. It has been informed of your position and its role in our war. See that you keep it in line."

"Yes, Sir." As soon as he has his back to the scientist, already walking away, Acid Storm scowls. "I'll try…"

With such a big room and as much machinery as Shockwave has in his main lab, it's easy to identify different sections, some easily hidden from the entrance and the main area.

The Seeker finds his new charge in one of them, seemingly examining one of the consoles, though, with his back to the Air Commander, it's hard to tell.

The first thing he notices is the glaring yellow color, forearms, servos, thighs and pedes white and the helm black, as well as a red and white stripe on his wings.

And the Decepticon insignias, of course.

He has the same model of shoulder-mounted guns as almost every other Seeker, but that's not something to look at too much. A lot of mechs with specialized weaponry model them after common guns if it's possible to avoid attracting too much attention and preserving the element of surprise.

Taking into account what Shockwave has said, he's sure those aren't normal plasma cannons.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?" The rich voice startles him, but, fortunately, the strange Flier doesn't turn around to see his surprise. "I've known you were there ever since before you walked around the wavelength modulator." His tone is dripping with almost disgust, and Acid Storm has to take a look around before realizing that he has no idea what kind of machine a wavelength modulator is. "Pathetic."

And the Seeker turns around.

The faceplate is white and the optics are a burning yellow, but the proud stance, the mightier-than-thou scowl and the way he's staring at him with half lit optics, as if he could see everything that's going through his processor…

"Starscream?"

"No. The designation is Sunstorm." The yellow mech replies, and how low his opinion of Acid Storm has fallen is easy to see in how he tilts his helm back to look down at the slightly taller Flier. "You must be the Air Commander. It's a miracle how the Decepticons have managed to survive as long as they have with the likes of you in charge. You should be grateful Primus decided to send me to aid you."

"Shockwave designed you."

"And who put my blueprints in his processor? Surely you don't believe someone like _him_ could've managed to build someone like _me_."

Covenant mech. Oh, the _fun_.

"I'm Acid Storm, Air Commander of the Cybertron Forces and Sub-Commander of Air Force. You are under my command and supervision, and so you will defer to me for anything, and I mean _any single thing_, and follow my instructions _to the letter_. Understood?"

"I have a functioning processor." The yellow Flier deadpans, and the older Seeker almost twitches.

The glitch, implying the rest of the universe are stupid…

He may not be Starscream, but he certainly has the attitude.

"Smart-afts get thrown into the brig. Since this is your first offense, I'll let it slide. Do not expect it to happen again. So, understood?"

"Yes, Sir." The yellow mech drawls, leaning against the computer at his back as he crosses his arms against his dark cockpit.

"Don't get cocky with me." He hisses, stepping forward to loom over the unimpressed Flier.

"Or what?"

"I can have you dismantled as easily as you were put together, _experiment_." Yellow optics flash pale amber with an enraged scowl, and the smaller Seeker straightens to glare into his red ones.

"I am Primus' messenger, created by His will and power. You will _respect_ me."

"You will have to _earn_ that respect first."

And something… _changes_.

Amber optics flash with surprise, and the yellow Flier takes a step back, looking… confused?

It takes a lot of effort, but Acid Storm manages to keep his no-nonsense tall and powerful stance.

"You… are giving me a _chance_ to prove myself?"

That… doesn't sound like the offense it would've probably been for someone with such an ego. It is disbelief in that voice, yes, but not because his abilities and 'Primus given position' are being questioned, but because someone is… well, giving him a chance to prove himself, really.

The thing is, the mech in front of the Air Commander isn't a mightier-than-thou embodiment of Primus himself, or whatever, but a newspark.

A _newspark_.

Shockwave has done it, he has managed to recreate Vector Sigma, to find a way to create sparks without need of another.

Because that is not a highly intelligent and extensively developed AI or drone, but a real Cybertronian.

Unable to stop himself, Acid Storm relaxes his posture, so that he's not looming over the other Seeker anymore.

"I am, as long as you are willing to follow the rules." He finally answers, and the yellow mech looks down for some nanokliks, processing those words.

"Alright." He whispers before straightening, standing at attention with only determination on his faceplate and burning optics. "I understand, Sir."

Acid Storm's not willing to say it out loud, but that tiny pulse in his spark may have been pride.

* * *

><p>"Wheeljack, how are you feeling?" Optimus asks as soon as he enters the Repair Bay and sees the inventor chatting happily with Perceptor.<p>

He's sitting up, and even though his servos and forearms are resting on his lap instead of gesturing, he seems as excited and happy as normal.

"Far better, Prime. Ratchet said he just needs to do some more tinkering in my servos and then he'll reactivate the sensors. Mech, I can't believe how much of my sensor net the surge managed to fry. Guess I'm lucky!"

"Thankfully so." The Autobot leader answers with an unseen smile, though he knows his optics betray it.

"So… do we have any news on the 'Cons?" The Lancia asks almost innocently, and Optimus hesitates.

They do, because Mirage has come back.

"Well?" Ratchet asks, walking to be at the Prime's side, and he finally nods.

"We do. Starscream is deactivated." For a very uncomfortable moment, tense silence fills the Repair Bay. "His Trinemates seem to be the most affected, but apparently all Decepticons are more… subdued. Megatron included."

"Then we should use the chance to strike." Perceptor suggests, tilting his head curiously. "If they are grief-struck they will be easily distracted. Perhaps we could—"

"No. We will do no such thing. They are affected, yes, but their wounds are festering. According to what Mirage observed, they may be far more vicious and ruthless now than they were before."

"Megatron's plans still suck slag." Wheeljack points out without actually pointing, servos still on his lap.

"But he has a focus now. And so do the rest. The Combaticons seem to have moved permanently back into the ship, and we know Onslaught used to be a tactician to be wary of."

"How about getting Mirage and Jazz to install some bombs? If their base of operations is damaged we could do some serious harm."

"It's an option we are—"

The alarms go off.

Without a second look, Optimus almost runs out of the Repair Bay, Ratchet following with a string of curses.

"Red Alert, what is it?"

"_The Decepticons are back at the Space Bridge, Sir. Apparently they're going to finish the transport of Energon cubes to Cybertron that was interrupted before._"

"Understood. Jazz—"

"_Just waiting for you, Boss Bot. I have the team assembling. You sure you want to try that?_"

"We cannot allow the Decepticons to supply Shockwave with the Energon. Ultra Magnus reported an increase in activity a groon ago, and it's obvious the energy is needed if Megatron is willing to try to continue with this plan without Starscream."

"_Or maybe he's getting a replacement. We're ready either way, Prime._"

And, as he steps outside the _Ark_, Optimus can see that they are, the strike team assembled and transformed, only waiting for him, Ratchet and a running Bluestreak to join them and roll out.

The scorch marks of Starscream's crash site are still there, and no Decepticon is giving them even the briefest of glances.

Though that may be because they've spotted the Autobots.

Their viciousness is unparalleled, attacking without following any apparent order, delighting in every shot that lands on their targets, on every hit of metal against metal.

And all the while, Megatron is just standing there, by the Space Bridge, smoldering optics fixed on Optimus, but arms crossed against his chest.

Simply observing his troops mangling the Prime's.

When the first Decepticon gets shot into stasis, they snap.

Devastator and Bruticus join together to shoot Superion from the sky, and Menasor pounces on him almost gleefully if it wasn't for all the rage, the Aerialbots quickly separating to make themselves smaller targets, and, all the while, the rest of Autobots have to dodge fire from the non-combined Decepticons, keeping them back while drones come in and out of the Space Bridge, carrying away glittering Energon cubes.

And Megatron just observes.

Only when the Space Bridge closes does he roar and join the fight, and Optimus immediately calls for a retreat. The coordinated assaults from the three combiners and the Decepticons flanking his forces are bad enough.

Even as they drive away, they find themselves assaulted by the remaining Seekers, but, fortunately, the arrival of the Dinobots makes them turn tail.

Ratchet doesn't even bother cursing as they make their way back to the _Ark_.

* * *

><p>Glitch as he is, Sunstorm isn't too much of an aft.<p>

Not because of his glitch, at least.

Oh, he's too fond of introducing himself as a messenger of Primus and all that, and takes it real bad when someone laughs at his face because of that, but he doesn't hammer them with Covenant quotes and that kind of thing all the time.

No, he's an aft because that's just the way he is.

Mightier-than-thou attitude, looking down at everyone and prone to insulting with a bright smile on his faceplate, much like Starscream is—_was_.

But he respects Acid Storm enough to not act like that to him.

Not with the same degree of obnoxiousness, that is.

He would have been tolerable but for the fact that he's always following the green Seeker around.

As per Shockwave's orders, of course, but still.

He. Is. _Annoying_.

But the time has finally come to see just how good his fighting skills are.

They've located an Autobot base, and they're going _in_.

It's not the same as when the war was on full swing, but, from time to time, they get to have some fun.

Find a base, send the drones and ground troops in to flush the Autoscum out, and then the Fliers can hone their aim on moving targets.

Until Acid Storm flies in.

Then, all Decepticons retreat far away from his reach while his Fliers bomb the place from above his acid rain clouds.

His range has decreased enormously since Hailstorm was deactivated, but Acid Storm is the real Rainmaker of what once was his Trine. The mods Shockwave upgraded him with help him concentrate enough moisture to create rainclouds, and the gas mixture he carries on himself is so acidic that it can eat through Cybertanium faster than a mech can reboot their optics. When mixed with rain it loses a lot of its power, yes, but it's still strong enough to deal some damage to the armor, weakening it to allow low-powered plasma shots to breach it.

Or cluster bombs to completely eliminate them.

It may be a bit of an overkill with just how little Autobots are in each base, but taking into account they're the commanding officers and the specialists, overkill is now called 'playing it safe'.

Acid Storm's delight at the growing cloud cover over him is smothered when he catches a bright yellow flash.

Sunstorm.

Hovering in root mode, staring at the clouds over his helm with the curiosity of a newspark.

… He _is_ a newspark.

Slag.

"Hey!" The yellow Seeker startles, quickly turning to look at his commanding officer with innocent optics. "Didn't you get the message? Out of the clouds!"

The younger Flier opens his mouth to answer—and the rain starts to fall.

The sizzling as the drops fall to the ground is barely audible at the altitude they are at, but the Autobots' curses are more than enough to tell him that they're reaching it.

And that slagging yellow glitch is still hovering under the rain as if Shockwave wouldn't deactivate Acid Storm if he so much as _scratches_ the scrap-heap—

Arms spread wide with the servos looking up, Sunstorm tilts his head back to let the acid rain wash over his faceplate and his black optics—and smiles.

Midway through his speed burst to tackle the idiot out of the cloud cover, Acid Storm stops.

The yellow Seeker looks… content. Peaceful. As if the acid falling down his plating on rivulets was high quality solvent in luxurious wash-racks, as if he wasn't hovering midair over the ruins of Polyhex with a bunch of Autobots running and driving as fast as they can to get away from the rain and the Decepticons waiting to blast their weakened armor.

And, as he watches bright yellow coloring stay in place, the nanites undamaged by the corrosive rain, Acid Storm finds himself relaxing too.

Resistant. Of course. He should've known Shockwave's new Decepticons would be _better_ than the current ones.

"I suggest you fly out of the cloud cover." Sunstorm's voice catches his attention, but doesn't startle him as before. "Really, Primus' punishment is not for you."

"Primus' punishment?" He repeats, staying where he is despite the younger Flier's words.

Electricity crackles all over yellow plating, and Acid Storm's optics pale in realization before he bolts.

Only when he's safely out of the falling rain does he turn back and _stares_.

Sunstorm is a star under the curtain graying the world, the energy crawling over his frame as bright yellow as his own coloring, and growing stronger by the nanoklik.

And then, the rain seems to catch fire as a wave of that yellow radiation spreads from the Seeker, each and every droplet charging to the point they are doses of concentrated radioactive plasma that burn trough the ruins below with the same strength of the green Flier's undiluted acid.

A couple of Autobots, one carrying his injured comrade, are unlucky enough to be hit by the irradiated rain, and their agonized cries as they are melted while still functional wash over the sizzling of the ruins and the Decepticons' systems.

Some are far enough to receive just mild burns, but those two…

Acid Storm can't look away, morbidly fascinated as he watches them dissolve, their cries turning to static, their wires sparking madly as they are exposed and cut, and their spark chambers—

The spark chambers crackle almost with the same intensity of the energy coursing over Sunstorm's plating before they explode—

Bolts of lightning erupt from them upwards, up up _up_—

And slam into the yellow Seeker.

The wave of radiation turning the acid rain into a nightmarish liquid stops with a chocked scream, and Acid Storm finds himself flying through the once more mildly corrosive rain as he hurries to catch the newspark, turbines spluttering before they fail—

Green and black arms close around yellow plating with a softness that doesn't befit the strength of their grip.

Sunstorm's optics flicker before they come back online, and when he sees the Air Commander, his pompous smirk is once more in place.

"Well?"

Acid Storm can only laugh, breathless and slightly chocked as the sound is, as he feels relief course through his wires.

"Slag it, that was… that was amazing, Seekerling."

"I am _not_ a Seekerling." The yellow Flier scoffs, but, despite the scowl, his optics stay half lit and he makes no move to get the older mech to release him.

He's exhausted, and maybe even a bit damaged by the unexpected reaction of the exploding sparks, but he's still a Decepticon, and a really prideful one at that.

Acid Storm doesn't care. He's just glad he has his Trinemate in his arms, making sure he doesn't fall and get himself more—

Wait.

_Wait_.

_Trinemate_?!

"Air Commander? Sir, are you alright?" Sunstorm's rich voice brings him back to the present, and, absentmindedly, he notices the rain isn't falling anymore.

Worried amber optics stare up at him.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He whispers, clearing his processor, before clutching the younger Seeker closer while still making sure he's comfortable, turbines flaring with more power as he turns his attention back to Darkmount. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Your placement in this army."

"You mean… I'm not _supposed_ to be with you?" And oh, the _horror_ in that sentence…

Acid Storm stops in midair once more and looks down at the scared newspark in his arms.

"Of course you are." He answers without hesitation, voice strong and without the barest possibility of protest. "From now until the day we deactivate." And the yellow Flier relaxes, letting out a huff of air he most likely hadn't noticed he'd been keeping in. "You're my Trinemate, Sunstorm. And nothing's going to change that."

"Uhm. What… What does that mean?"

His flight is interrupted once more, but this time he looks down in shock.

"What?"

"That. Trinemate. What does that mean?"

"You don't have the data? The _protocols_?" Sunstorm just shakes his helm, and Acid Storm has to remind himself there's a mech in his grip to stop himself from clenching his fists hard enough to bend Cybertonium. "I'm going to _deactivate_ that emotionless glitch!"

If he wasn't seething with rage, he would have probably noticed the baffled look on the yellow Seeker's faceplate as he flies to Darkmount the fastest he's ever gone.

As it is, though, he just dismisses the patting on his chest plates and how soothing the feeling is.

He'll have time to let his Trinemate soothe him later.

Now, he has a scientist that needs his armor forcefully removed very slowly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I'm having Acid Storm be Trine-less 'cause Sunstorm has just been created and I have no idea who the blue Rainmaker is, and I didn't really like the idea of him existing in this story. Also, my take on the rain-making is that the blue creates the clouds, Acid Storm adds the acid and Sunstorm just burns mechs to a crisp. Obviously, that's not how things are going to work in this fic, with Shockwave's modifications on Acid Storm allowing him to both create and acidify the clouds and Sunstorm adding his own 'touch'. Things are going to be _very_ different here... you'll get to see just how much as the story goes on.


	3. Flashy Arrival

The third time's the charm, humans say.

Megatron doesn't agree, and neither do his Decepticons.

If it wasn't for the difficulty of it, he'd have moved the Space Bridge to another location.

Fortunately, though, a sandstorm buried the blackened ground where he'd last seen his Air Commander still active, if gray and broken.

The warlord offlines his optics with a quiet huff, shaking the thought away as he concentrates on the inactive Space Bridge.

The past is the past. Shockwave's replacement for Starscream, at least until either Thundercracker or Skywarp manage to pull themselves together, is about to arrive.

Soundwave, standing calmly at his left, doesn't betray any emotion, but his placement is more than enough for those who know him.

He may be the Decepticon Second in Command now, but he certainly doesn't feel like it.

The Space Bridge flashes to activation almost unexpectedly, but neither the Communication Officer, the remnants of the Command Trine or the Slagmaker himself react.

When it goes offline, however, there are three frames stepping out of the ring instead of two.

Blitzwing gives him a half bow before going to where Astrotrain is waiting a respectful distance away, but the Seekers stop.

The one at the front is a glaring green only softened by the darker shades covering it in a camouflage pattern, servos, forearms and pedes black, and thighs white, yellow details here and there, and orange cockpit.

His helm is black and his faceplate an almost white silver, his bright red optics as calm as the rest of him.

The one standing a step back and to the first Flier's right is yellow, chest and pelvic armor a more orangish shade, with forearms, servos, thighs and pedes white and the same red and white stripe Thundercracker has on his wings.

His faceplate is white and helm black, but his optics are a blazing yellow, more intense than his straight posture and emotionless look would make them to be.

There's something wrong with that Seeker.

Starting with the fact that he _shouldn't be here_.

"Acid Storm." Megatron salutes calmly with a nod, and the green Seeker answers with a deep bow, the other mimicking him so quickly that it almost looks like they bent in unison.

"Lord Megatron. It's an honor to be once more under your direct command."

"Indeed. Now, perhaps you could start proving your usefulness by explaining why I have two Seekers when I was told I'd be welcoming only one." He orders with a calm voice, and the Fliers straighten.

"This is my Trinemate, Sunstorm. I couldn't simply leave him behind." The new Air Commander supplies, gesturing to the yellow mech.

And Megatron knows, as do the others present, just how true those words are.

He's been seeing how the loss of one can affect the two others, and, judging by the fact there's only two of Acid Storm's Trine, he knows it's better that way.

So, he just nods and gestures for them to follow back to where Astrotrain is, the Triple Changer already transforming into his Shuttle mode.

The new arrivals may have been outfitted with the native F-15 Falcon alt modes, but it wouldn't do to have them flying around to be spotted by Autobots before it's their time.

The yellow one scowls in an almost familiar gesture, but follows silently.

Megatron forces himself to delete the budding line of code.

Starscream is gone, no matter how unlikely that possibility had grown to be with the vorns. If he wants his Decepticons to win and the Autobots exterminated, he needs to move on.

Easier said than done for some, judging by Thundercracker and Skywarp's attentive looks in the yellow Seeker's direction as the warlord talks to Acid Storm.

And… is Soundwave _staring_?

"What?" Sunstorm finally scoffs, voice rich and with the superiority undertone that is oh so _familiar_…

He only realizes he's stopped talking to the Air Commander to join in the staring when burning yellow optics find his.

"I may be the messenger of Primus, but I'm not a processor reader, so speak. Or _you_ speak for them." The Flier snarls softly, glaring at Soundwave, who straightens in surprise.

"How…"

"Sunstorm is _nosy_. He's been getting into Shockwave's computers any chance he's found."

"It's called preparation. It usually works when thrust into a war." The yellow Seeker scowls, but his Trineleader just gives him a deadpanned look.

"Did he say messenger of _Primus_?"

"He's a Covenant mech." Acid Storm answers calmly, earning himself another glare.

"As should everyone be. I understand weak-willed mechs being blinded, but Primus' greatness should have never been disregarded as it has been. That fake Prime will pay for it."

"Oh?" Megatron lets out with healthy curiosity, almost perking up at the words.

"The line of Primes became corrupted as soon as the Senate was created and linked to it. The current imposter must be eliminated to allow for the Matrix to return to the true worthy, someone capable of making what remains of Cybertron see what they have been blinded to."

"Like you?" Skywarp asks with a mocking tone, but, despite the flash of annoyance in yellow optics, the other Flier doesn't do more than straighten.

"Like Megatron."

Silence.

Slowly, all optics turn to the warlord, who has to reboot his visual array a couple of times before letting a sharp smile on his faceplate.

"Why, of course. I would be honored to carry out Primus' duty." The Seeker seems satisfied at that, nodding, while Acid Storm gives his leader a funny look. "Something you want to add?"

"Has Shockwave given you any information about Sunstorm?"

"Should he?"

"Oh, mech. We're slagged." The Air Commander groans, hiding his faceplate behind his servos. "Let me tell you later. In private. Just… tell your mechs to not piss him off."

Before Megatron can ask, he feels Astrotrain slow down and land, the ramp lowering almost immediately after to let them step out into the _Nemesis_' tower lift.

"Thundercracker, Skywarp. Keep an optic on our newest addition while Acid Storm and I discuss our incoming plans. Soundwave, with us." He orders, already walking away, and taking into account the meaningful look the Air Commander gives his Trinemate, who answers with a tired look.

Once the door to the warlord's office closes at their back and they're all seated, Megatron turns his whole attention to the Seeker.

"So, what is it that Shockwave should have told me about your Trinemate?"

"He's a newspark."

Silence.

Soundwave's visor reboots, but the startled pinkish color remains, as the Slagmaker is sure it's on his optics too.

"What?"

"Shockwave has been trying to replicate Vector Sigma spark-creation for decavorns, not to say hecavorns. He designed frames, powerful ones, and even built them, but he hadn't managed to stabilize a spark. Until Vector Sigma was reactivated and he had a chance to study it further. The first spark he managed to stabilize and transfer was Sunstorm's, and as far as I know, it's the only one."

"Is he now. Does that mean he has a specially designed frame?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, that comes with a few glitches, some of them… quite important."

"Like?"

"He was created by a _Grounder_. He has almost no Seeker protocols." Which to Megatron means absolutely nothing, but, for the sake of his distraught Air Commander, he nods sympathetically.

"I am sure something can be done."

"Train him, but… It's not the same."

"Anything else we should know about?"

"His Primus obsession? That's a glitch too. He thinks himself a messenger of Primus and is a Covenant mech down to the spark. He believes he was created because _Primus_ gave Shockwave the idea."

"We've dealt with worse." But Acid Storm's look tells him otherwise.

"No, you haven't. He may not have much Flier protocols, but he's a natural in the air, his armor is corrosive-resistant and—"

The lights don't flicker, they just die, and the Seeker is up on his thrusters and running down the corridor so fast that Megatron barely manages to catch his loud cursing.

Whoever said Fliers aren't fast on the ground is going to have a nice chat with the end of his charged fusion cannon.

When he finally catches up it's not because of the loud noises, not completely, but because of the light.

Blazing yellow light that has both him and Soundwave rebooting their visual arrays a couple of times before they can finally enter the Rec Room without being blinded by it.

And there, in the center of it, burning like a star, is Sunstorm, Wildrider scrambling away from him with just one arm attached to his frame, the shoulder joint melted to the point not even a drop of Energon escapes from the lines fused together.

Optics pale amber, the yellow Seeker is simply staring with tired boredom at his ranting Trineleader.

"—go a breem without me keeping a leash on you?! I told you not to start melting slaggers into puddles of Cybertanium until at least an orn, and what do you do?! Melt the slaggers not even a _breem_ after we get here!"

"I wasn't going to _completely_ melt him."

"Not. The. Point!"

"What the Pit is going on here?" Megatron manages to rumble menacingly, stepping into the room as tall and imposing as always as the present Decepticons, minus the two newest Fliers, turn their pale startled and fearful visual arrays on him.

"That especially built and powerful frame I told you about?" Acid Storm scoffs, pointing at his Trinemate as the crackling electricity and what look almost like solar filaments arcing over yellow plating start to grow weaker and fewer in number, darkness slowly creeping in. "He's capable of creating elevated levels of radiation, star-like levels. Essentially, he's a radioactive bomb."

"I am the light of Primus."

"Or that, whatever you want to call it."

When his astonishment clears enough for his processor to function again, Megatron smiles widely and sharply.

"Reflector, get the generator repaired. Soundwave, as soon as we have energy again, contact Cybertron. I want to hear _all_ the details of this project of Shockwave's." He purrs, and not even the settling darkness can hide the shudders of his Decepticons.

* * *

><p>The <em>Nemesis<em> is strangely quiet after the power comes back on, and Mirage is more than a little determined to find out what the Decepticons are planning, because he wasn't the one to mess with the lights.

Which means they're doing something big, to require enough power to drain a ship for some minutes, or even to produce that effect by backfiring.

Well, that's what he's here for.

The rush of mechs is as unexpected as it is dangerous, and the spy counts himself lucky when he manages to avoid them by pressing against a wall.

The only words he manages to catch are 'sun', 'Seekers' and 'crazy'. Not especially promising, but at least it's something.

Besides, all the Decepticons seem to have come from the Rec Room, so that's where the noble goes to.

And that's where he finds the Seekers.

All of them, both the two members of the Command Trine and the Coneheads, standing around a mech he has never seen before, not even in file.

Another Seeker, though this one bright yellow and with amber optics.

Starscream's replacement?

"—don't know how long I've been waiting to do that to the slagger." Thrust finishes with a dark grin, almost giddy, while the newcomer looks at him as one would the mud under their pedes.

"The fact you hadn't done it yet just speaks of your uselessness." The yellow Flier deadpans with the barest hint of a sneer, and Mirage startles.

The voice is obviously wrong, but the stance and the tone…

Ramjet scowls and takes a step closer to the unimpressed unknown mech.

"See how well you deal with Motormaster after that stunt. The scrap-heap is even worse than the whole of his Gestaltmates combined!"

"You mean Menasor?"

"I—Uhm, no. Actually, I meant it as in having to deal with them at the same time, not…" The white Flier mutters, startled.

"You said 'Gestaltmates' and 'combined'." The yellow one points out in a mixture of smugness and questioning, blazing amber optics analyzing the Conehead with the intensity of a predator that has its prey trapped.

"I—But that's… Oh, mute it!" Ramjet finally settles with, grimacing as he crosses his arms against his chest.

"It is really by the will of Primus that you have all not been deactivated yet. You should be grateful I… I…" And, just like that, the unknown mech falls silent, looking confused with his optics unfocused.

The Coneheads take a step back, unnerved, while the other two lean closer, slightly worried.

"Sunstorm? Are you alright?" Thundercracker asks, and Mirage makes a note of the designation to check with Teletraan's database later.

"Acid Storm?" The yellow Flier whispers, turning around with confusion and…

Worry? Fear? Distress?

Whatever it is, the expression makes him look definitely newspark-like.

That doesn't mean Mirage isn't tense when yellow optics scan the entrance, taking into account the designation.

Acid Storm.

Leader of the Decepticon Air Forces on Cybertron.

Is he on _Earth_?

A muted whirr of transformation, and yellow wings open wide, twitching.

_Oh, slag._

Blazing yellow optics find Mirage's own.

Before the noble can do more than turn around and open the door, he hears a roar at his back—

He's slammed into the corridor wall loudly with a pained grunt, but the world twists away as he's thrown back, falling to the ground with yet more clanging and feeling his disruptor short out at the impacts.

"Autobot!"

"So it seems."

He manages to bring his optics online, only to almost wish he hadn't.

There's Seekers all around, and none of them look happy.

With a move worthy of Jazz's dancing skills—and that he'll _never_ let anyone know he knows—he pushes the Decepticons away, more at the surprise of the spy whirling on his shoulder plate that at his legs making actual contact, before he rushes to the door again.

Turbines roar once more, and he doesn't wait for his pedes to get any traction before transforming and speeding down the halls, uncaring about Soundwave catching his frequency as he contacts the Autobots to get him out of the ship.

There's yelping as the Fliers crash into a tight corner, too big to take the turns—

One set of turbines doesn't mute or grow weaker, but _stronger_.

One Seeker is getting closer.

He risks a 90 degree turn on an intersection, hoping to lose his tail—

And feels a large weight pouncing on him not a nanoklik later, tires screeching loudly as his suspensions burn with pain, before clawed servos pierce his undercarriage for a firm grip to get him off the ground.

He can feel Energon dripping down the dactyls even before the alarms flash, and hoping to distract his captor, he transforms.

The grip vanishes, the spy falling to his pedes, ready to bolt again—

Something explodes behind him, back plating _boiling_ off of his struts as his voice box shorts out from the energy surge ravaging his frame to the point he can't really feel his body anymore.

When the pain finally lessens, he finds himself lying on his side in the middle of a puddle of liquid metal and boiling Energon, a blazing winged silhouette approaching calmly and regally, tongues of solar plasma arcing off of it as almost completely white optics bore into his.

Comm miraculously still online, he manages to send one last message before impossible radioactive heat sends him into stasis.

_What exactly was Wheeljack's device supposed to _do_?!_

* * *

><p>Optimus finds himself on his back before he manages to turn around and see why the door to the bridge has opened, and when he looks up, he finds a distressed Jazz clicking on the main console madly.<p>

"What—"

The screen comes to life, and the Prime only manages to catch purple as he stands up—

"I want to negotiate Mirage's safe return to the Autobots." Jazz warbles out before Megatron can do more than open his mouth, a curious green Seeker standing by his side—

Oh, Acid Storm.

Wait, did Jazz say Mirage's safe return to the Autobots?!

"_Ah, so _that_ was the signal Soundwave detected._" The Decepticon leader says simply, looking pleasantly surprised.

"_Sir, I have just been informed the Seekers have an Autobot spy in their custody._" The Flier adds calmly, and Optimus give his Head of Special Operations a brief startled look.

How did he know Mirage had been caught even before the Decepticons themselves? Did he receive a comm?

"_Tell Skywarp to bring him here. Let's show our dear Autobots how we deal with spies._" The gray mech rumbles in almost a purr, looking right into the Prime's optics as he moves to stand at Jazz's side, Prowl at the red and blue mech's free one when the saboteur relinquishes the center of the screen to his leader.

There's a flash of purple behind Megatron, and the warlord turns around at the sound of displaced air—

A tiny part of Optimus' processor notices the fact that the Slagmaker himself tenses as much as the Autobots, but the majority of it is too busy being shell-shocked at the sight of one of his mechs lying on the ground in a growing puddle of Energon and molten metal, the plating on his back, and the back of arms, legs and head gone, as if eaten by some kind of acid, and his inner workings exposed, blackened and showing signs of heat damage as they strain to work, the sound of usually silent fans almost a roar in the silence.

Skywarp reappears again, this time carrying Hook and Scrapper and a bunch of medical supplies, and both Constructicons only stop cursing when they see the pile of half-melted mech at their pedes.

"_Wow. What happened to him?_" One of them asks, calm and curious, but Optimus can't bring himself to try to identify who, unable to look away from the tear-like molten optic lenses dripping down Mirage's faceplate, frozen into an agonized silent scream.

"_He tried to run._" The Seeker answers nonchalantly, and lime green moves to kneel just outside the puddle of boiling liquid.

"_Well, he'll be lucky if he gets to walk again after this. His motor controls seem to have taken a nasty hit._"

"_If he survives, you mean._"

"_Which you will make sure happens._" Megatron orders with a menacing rumble, and both Constructicons reach towards the melted ends of Energon lines to stop the loss—and take their servos back with loud cursing.

"_Frag! He's still boiling!_"

"_What the Pit did you throw on him, liquid plasma?!_"

Skywarp snickers.

"_Get us to the Repair Bay, there's no way we can do anything with what we have here._"

Without another word, they're gone with a flash of purple, only a puddle of cooling Energon and liquid metal proving it has been real.

"_And let that be a warning._" Megatron purrs, turning to the Autobots on the screen once more with a pleased dark smile. "_Now, what makes you think you can get me anything in exchange of such a delightful piece of entertainment for my troops?_"

"You… You sick—" Jazz's explosion is avoided before it even happens by Prowl putting a servo on a shoulder plate, but the Praxian's doorwings are vibrating in warning with enough anger for the motion to be seen instead of just heard.

"Energon. And letting you send it safely to Cybertron." Prime answers, hoping the usual offer suffices, because they don't have any prisoner to trade for Mirage.

Megatron's optics dim, as if he was talking through a private comm line, as do Acid Storm's, and the Autobot leader feels his spark falter in its pulsing—

"_Very well._" If he had less self-control, Optimus would have sagged in relief at that answer, red optics brightening as they focus on his blue ones once more. "_I'll send you the details in half a joor._"

"Mirage—"

"_Will be repaired, but not rebuilt. You will deal with the aesthetics, my Constructicons will just make sure he doesn't deactivate._"

And the screen goes black.

Jazz's curses make even the Prime startle and jump away from the smaller mech, who is shaking badly enough to have all his fluffed out plating rattle noisily, visor white.

It was bad enough when the Decepticons were just focused, but now…

Acid Storm is on Earth, and, apparently, he's brought some new weapon with himself.

And judging by the fact Megatron acquiesced to their offer, what they're planning with it is going to be much bigger than just stealing energy, if they don't think the task important enough to use the weapon.

Primus have mercy on them…

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I'm laughing so hard at the last line that I can barely think, so give me a moment.

Okay, better now. Things are going to get nastier from now on. As you've seen with Mirage, the 'Cons won't be pulling their punches, and Jazz is _mad_ now, so watch out.

Now, the reason for the early update is because I won't have internet access this weekend, and since holidays will get in the way, I don't know when I'll be able to post next chapter (it's already written, so no problems there).

Happy holidays!


	4. Defying Explanation

Hook doesn't look up when the door opens, too busy soldering the last plate of weak and dull gray temporary armor to cover the Autobot's inner workings. It's a flimsy piece of Earth iron that offers close to no real protection, but at least keeps dirt out of the mech's insides.

It may be just a patch job, but he'll be slagged if he ever allows himself to make it less than perfect.

Builder frame type he may be, but he's just as good as any Medic, lack of specialized sensors and protocols and all, and he's more than willing to show them.

Glitched Senate, refusing to allow him entrance to the Medical Repair Academy…

"That is an excellent job."

Undignified response or not, Hook can't stop himself from letting the welding torch fall from his servos as he jumps away with a yelp.

He may have heard the voice just once before, but he very well knows who it is, so he's not surprised to find Sunstorm standing next to his previous position.

Though he _is_ startled when he sees the sincere innocent curiosity on his faceplate and warm yellow optics.

"My apologies, I assumed you were aware of my arrival. Although I guess it must take a lot to be focused enough to deal such expert touches." The Seeker explains calmly, one dactyl following the latest weld mark on the Autobot's back with barely there pressure.

Unsure if he should be flattered or insulted by those words, Hook scowls and pushes the yellow mech away, recovering his torch to finish his job.

"I _knew_ you were there. I just thought you were someone else." He scoffs, going back to welding the last plate as he makes a note of where the Flier is now, standing calmly where the Constructicon send him.

"I get that more than I think I should."

"Poor little you."

"Do not mock me, Grounder."

"Do not bother me, Seeker. I'm working."

There's no answer.

Hook takes an instant to see that the yellow mech is looking at him indignantly but, unlike any Decepticon when he's not working on them, he stays silent to let him finish what he's doing.

He lists it as the Flier having had to deal with Shockwave, and the risk of becoming his next living template if he disobeys, before he got to Earth and pushes his presence to the back of his processor, focusing on the stasis-locked mech he's been ordered to repair.

When he feels satisfied with his job, he turns off the torch and puts it with the other tools he'll have to clean on the tray, and turns around to go fetch himself a cube.

And yelps again when he finds the yellow Seeker still standing calmly when he last saw him.

"What the Pit are you still doing here?!"

"Was I supposed to leave?" He asks, sounding completely sincere, and the Constructicon scowls.

"Why. Are. You. _Here_." He hisses, and the almost serene calm of the Flier cracks to show the uncertainty under it.

Hook stops, all his annoyance vanishing faster than he can acknowledge it.

This is Shockwave's radioactive Seeker, powerful enough to melt a mech's plating with just being close enough.

And he's looking at him, a measly Builder, not with the mightier-than-thou attitude that all Fliers seem to reserve for the rest of Cybertronian, but with a pleading nervousness with a glint of hope that a newspark reserves for someone they know is of superior status.

_What?_

"I… seem to have trouble with one of my thrusters." He whispers, trying to make his voice sound strong but failing quite obviously.

When Hook doesn't do more than stare, he finally hunches down into himself, dactyls fiddling in front of his cockpit as he looks down.

"I was told you were the best Medic in the ship and I can ascertain it now that I've seen your work, so… could you… take a look? Please?"

"Please." This time, it's the Seeker the one who startles at the Constructicon's voice.

"Huh, yes. Please? Or… do you… need something? Some kind of payment? Shockwave never asked for anything, but I know this is not like back at Darkmount, so I'll understand if some kind of requisite is needed, though… I don't really know what I should get you. Does the treatment itself require a separate payment that the diagnoses?"

"Sit."

"What?"

"I said sit." The Grounder manages, shaking the numbness off and trying to deal with the fact someone is willing to _pay_ him for a job that wasn't even supposed to be his in the first place.

He's a Builder, not a Medic, no matter that he's the best medically trained mech in the whole _Nemesis_.

After a brief flash of gratitude that makes Hook's spark twist and preen at the same time, the Flier moves to an empty berth and sits down, and despite his claims of something wrong with a thruster, he doesn't falter in his steps.

"What is the problem?" He asks, kneeling in front of the dangling pedes and firmly but gently clasping the offered limb in a servo to look it over.

"There seems to be something stuck between the low and high-pressure turbines. I can feel it gritting against the walls, but I have no means of ascertaining its nature or how to better remove it." Visor pale orange in surprise, Hook looks up, and the Flier turns insecure once more, something almost like fear in his paling optics. "Is it bad?"

"It's… You're telling me you've come to the Repair Bay because you have _dirt_ in your turbines?" He exclaims, dumbfounded and mildly insulted. "What, do you only have half a functioning processor?"

This time, it's the Seeker that looks insulted, though there's something under the indignation…

Oh.

Oh _Primus_.

Is he really _scared_?

"If you're so useless that you can't even get rid of a so called bit of _dirt_ from my turbines then release me. I'll find some way to deal with that myself." The yellow mech scoffs, hiding his fear and growing despair quite effectively.

But it's easy for Hook to see them, now that he knows they're there.

"That's what all of you Seekers usually do." He points out, his grip on the pede tightening when he feels its owner give a tentative tug to try to get it free. "There's a reason you have retractable claws, you know." And the Flier stops, surprise replacing all other feelings.

"We have what?"

"I take it back. You have just half a _spark_, don't—"

The kick to the faceplate takes him by surprise, as does the lack of radioactive heat when the yellow mech stomps on his chest plates to keep him lying on his back, a dangerous scowl on his faceplate and pale amber optics.

Uh-oh. He looks pissed. And if the thing with Wildrider taught the Decepticons anything, it's not to anger the new Flier.

Feeling panic start to grow, Hook contacts his Gestaltmates and Acid Storm to _get the Pit down here before I become a puddle of melted slag!_

"How _dare_ you assume _anything_ about my spark, you filthy _Ground-pounder_." The Seeker hisses, and a reboot of his visor leaves him staring up into white and red and blue plating and dark faceplates with burning crimson optics—

Another reboot, and the memory vanishes.

That's right, Starscream had thrown him on his back too that one time they'd tried to mess with Skywarp's warp-matrix…

"I wasn't assuming anything!" He hurries to reassure, servos up to show they're empty, hoping the gesture would make the other calm down. "It was just a bad choice of words, I wasn't implying you're any less of a Seeker than—" Too late do Hook's servos fly to cover his mouth, and he knows it.

Instead of the temperature 'dropping', as the saying goes, the room starts to heat up, and the Constructicon's chest plates easily warm up under the turbine slowly coming to life.

The door opens.

"Sunstorm, _enough_!" Acid Storm roars, getting to his Trinemates side with two long steps and pulling him off the Builder, the heat vanishing as the air from the corridor fills the Repair Bay.

Hook scrambles to his pedes so quickly that he stumbles, but he suddenly finds Bonecrusher's arms around his trembling frame to help him keep standing, the rest of his Gestalt slowly trickling inside with startled or suspicious looks.

"What happened?" Scrapper whispers, none of them looking away from where the green Seeker is glaring down at the scowling yellow one.

But Hook has seen it once, and thus he can no longer ignore the pain and fear and shame hidden behind bright amber optics and the angered grimace.

With a simple push, he steps away from his brothers and towards the Fliers.

"It was my fault." All optics and visors land on him, but he only cares about the startled pale yellow ones and the confused and wary red ones of the Seekers. "A poor choice of words. No harm done."

"But there _could_ have been." Acid Storm grumbles, and when he turns his glare on the slightly smaller mech, the other visibly flinches.

"My bad, really. Now, get back on the berth and let me take a look at that turbine." He answers calmly, waving away the incredulity of his Gestaltmates as he gestures for the yellow Seeker to move.

"Turbine? Are you damaged?" Acid Storm exclaims, all anger now turned into worry as he clasps his Trinemate's arms to look him over, earning himself a grimace of annoyance.

"I'm _not_. It's just some dirt, I'll deal with it myself."

"The truth. _Now_."

"_That_ is the truth."

"You wouldn't be in the Repair Bay to get rid of some _dirt_." And the smaller Flier looks away with shame clear on his faceplate, the fear hidden only slightly better. "Sunstorm?"

"I don't know how to clean it out, but Hook said I should. So I'll find a way." He answers morosely, and Acid Storm quickly releases him and whirls away from him, a spark-extinguishing snarl on his faceplate that makes the Constructicons bolt away from the door as he rushes out.

But Hook only notices the betrayed and broken expression on the yellow Seeker's faceplate, and how he lets his helm fall down with trembling servos tightly pressed into fists at his sides.

"Sit." He orders, giving the Flier a soft push that forces him to end on the berth, and there's no resistance when he kneels down and grabs the offending pede once more, a tiny brush on his free servo as he tilts the thruster to be able to see better inside. "He's not mad at you, you know." He lets out almost casually as he carefully pushes the tool inside to clear away the reddish dirt of the desert the Space Bridge is in. "He's going to go shoot something or someone, or take a long flight, and when he's sure he won't snap at you he'll come back." And he doesn't feel incredulous looks on him because his brothers are tinkering around with their own projects or whatever around the Repair Bay, but he knows they're listening, and feels their wordless questions through the Gestalt bond.

Why is he being _nice_ to the glitched Seeker that had tried to melt him barely a klik ago?

He has a couple of ideas, but he's not willing to speak them out loud, or even look at them too closely.

"I don't understand it." Sunstorm whispers, still sitting limply and letting Hook work, looking down at the servos now open on his lap, palms up, as if they held all the answers. "I want to, but… I don't. He's supposed to be my Trinemate, he said that, but…" The Constructicon stops, slowly looking up to see optics a dirty shade of brownish gold lost in the middle distance. "You're right. I don't have a full spark."

All sound in the Repair Bay stops.

"Why would you say that?"

"I am the messenger of Primus, sent here to right the wrongs the Senate and the line of fake Primes forced on our people. But… He couldn't build me. He gave my schematics, the very idea that would bring me to function, to Shockwave for him to build me… but he's just a mech, and despite his genius, there was only so much he could do with what he had… I'm not a Seeker. Not a real one, anyway. Acid Storm said I'm missing most, if not all of the spark-coding, yet he still calls me his Trinemate…"

"Whoa, mech… That's not good…" Scavenger whispers, and Hook grimaces in turn, watching the Flier huddle into himself.

"How the Pit can he even function without the spark-coding? That should be impossible!" Bonecrusher exclaims, as dumbstruck as the rest.

"There's no way a mech would be created without the frame type coding, he should have been reabsorbed. And Vector Sigma would never release such a spark either." Scrapper points out, thoughtful.

"I was neither created from another spark nor by Vector Sigma. Shockwave _made_ me. An accumulation of energy compressed by magnetic fields and fed whatever coding he felt necessary, mixing a bit of almost everything to obtain a super-soldier, a mech that defied classification, a… a _frame type-less_ Cybertronian." Sunstorm whispers painfully, and there are some clangs as the Constructicons either sit down or rest against whatever can hold their weight while they process things.

"Slag." Long Haul simply whispers, and Hook knows he's not the only one to nod in agreement.

"So you're what, a mech with some of all frame types at spark trapped in a Seeker frame?"

"Essentially."

"Acid Storm doesn't know, does he." It's not a question, but the pained grimace is more than answer enough, and when the yellow mech pulls his pede out of his grip, the Builder allows it. "That's how you're still functioning. You don't have all Seeker essential coding, but the bits of other frame types fill in the voids to conform a whole spark. The ultimate Hybrid."

"But it's not whole…"

"What?" He repeats, trying to make sense of the faint words his audials have barely managed to catch.

"My spark, it's not whole. I… I can _feel_ parts missing."

"You're one _really messed up_ mech." Mixmaster whistles, and the Seeker-in-frame scowls while curling further into himself, one servo pressing against his cockpit, just over the spark chamber.

"Alright, first things first." Hook's voice as he stands up is authoritative and strong enough to earn not only his Gestaltmates' undivided attention, but also the pair of muddy gold-brown optics looking up at him. "You _are_ a Seeker, just a glitched one. Know why? Because Seekers only create Trine bonds with other Seekers, and even though you can't identify the Trine bond _yet_, for whatever reason, if Acid Storm says it's there, then it is." Sunstorm perks up visibly at that, hope brightening his optics as a small smile tries to make his lips twitch.

"You think so?" He whispers, awed and so painfully wanting to believe, and the Builder straightens with a pompous half-glare.

"I _know_ so."

And the smile finally blooms.

"Hey, if he has something of Builder in him, do you think we could teach him?" Mixmaster asks, and the Seeker visibly perks up, almost literally glowing as, along the rest of Constructicons, he turns to look at Scrapper, who is observing him thoughtfully.

"Why not?" He finally answers, and, for the third time this joor, Hook finds himself yelping as the yellow mech latches onto him, babbling questions non-stop.

"What are you, a newspark?!" He exclaims, cutting the Seeker's ranting and ignoring the loud cackling of his brothers as he pushes the Flier off of him.

"I am _not_ a newspark. I'm just recently built."

Silence.

The Gestalt bond is suddenly filled with giddiness and excitement, and even Hook himself is smiling and almost bouncing as they process those words.

They get to teach a _newspark_, to be his role models and family and… is that a new bond?

The Constructicons stiffen, he can feel it as well as see it, as they all realize there's a new trickle of energy from their sparks besides that of the Gestalt bond.

Small, weak and definitely fraternal, but a bond.

Mixmaster breaks down cackling as Scrapper falls down in a pile of limp limbs, Scavenger and Long Haul exchanging disbelieving looks while Bonecrusher crosses the room with some big steps to throw an arm around the confused yellow mech's shoulders, mindful of the wings, to guide him to one of their work stations.

Hook smiles, testing the tiny bond once more.

Spark-call bonds are rare enough, but for the whole Gestalt to experience it?

A fragging _miracle_.

But hey, their youngest brother is always saying he's been sent by Primus, so why not?

* * *

><p>Annoying as he is, Sunstorm is also a blessing.<p>

Had any other mech been in his same situation, lacking most of their frame type spark-code to the point they can't even feel a Trine bond, he's sure they wouldn't have been as understanding as to welcome Acid Storm with a bright smile and pure happiness when he finally cleared his processor of all the pain and anger that clouded it when he realized just how mangled his charge truly is.

But Sunstorm does, leaving the blueprints he's attentively looking over with Scrapper in one of the Repair Bay slash lab's workstations to happily not-bounce to his Trineleader's side with the most radiant smile and not even the slightest hint of anger or accusation in his bright yellow optics and the bond he can't neither feel nor, consequently, block.

Anything that comes through the Trine bond is the real uncensored deal, and, amidst his relief and the apologies he whispers to the younger Seeker, Acid Storm feels eternally grateful for it.

So distracted is he by being reunited with his Trinemate and with the knowledge he's not being blamed by what must have looked like plain simple rejection, that it takes him almost a full klik to notice the spark-extinguishing glares of the Constructicons.

Of _all_ of the Constructicons.

Unsure and suddenly threatened, he turns to look at them, one by one, as he unconsciously grabs the other Flier's forearm to pull him behind his green wings to shield him from the threatening attention suddenly on the Air Commander.

And then, Hook steps forward, and if he didn't have Sunstorm at his back, he would've moved away from the smaller mech.

"You keep an optic on him, and if you manage to hurt him again, you better hope Megatron decides to stop us, because we _will_ make you pay." The medic hisses, poking his cockpit, and the Seeker feels his mouth fall open in disbelief, optics pale.

"Are you telling me how to deal with my own Trinemate?" He lets out without thought, dumbstruck, and receives nods from all the lime green mechs.

"And you better remember who are the medics around here, you metallic chicken, because we won't have any qualms about letting you know just how badly you're messing up." Scrapper adds, arms crossed against his chest plates.

Sunstorm tugs his arm free and steps around the older Flier with an amused snort.

"You're all way too dramatic to make effective threats." He answers with a soft snicker. "Too many words. It should be as simple as saying 'we will see you _both_ around'." He adds, optics flashing with a menacing sharp smirk at the end, and all the other mechs shiver in fear, moving away uncomfortably, just before the yellow Seeker chuckles again. "See? Keep things simple."

And, with a last warning glare to the Air Commander and pleasant parting words, both Fliers walk out of the Repair Bay.

"What was _that_ about?" He asks Sunstorm when he feels they're far enough.

"They like me."

"Really."

"Yes. I'm likable." The green Seeker snorts, earning a _not amused_ look.

"No, really, what happened there? I thought you wanted the Grounder melted?" Seriousness takes over the usually haughty faceplate, and the smaller mech turns away. "Sunstorm?"

"Not really. I… He just made a bad choice of words, that's all. But they said they can help me." He answers, brightening at the end, and Acid Storm stops. "They think I may have the coding, but that it is inactive. They say that learning things I should know could help me activate it." He explains, and the Air Commander's spark pulses faster, reflecting the happiness and hope of the one it's bonded to.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

And he laughs, both at the relief and the soaring sensation the possible solution makes him feel, and the pure newspark-like joy of his Trinemate, and the knowledge that the Constructicons are really _committed_ to the task, if their protectiveness means anything.

Hope.

It's been a long time since he last felt it, and by Primus, does it feel _good_.

The end of the war is close too, he can feel it in his very spark. With Megatron's determination to finally get rid of the Autobots, Earth's resources and both his and Sunstorm's presence on this planet, the impossible doesn't seem so unattainable anymore.

All because of a slightly smaller than average brightly colored and haughty glitched Seeker.

A shame, that Starscream won't be able to see their beloved planet restored.

Startled by the thought, Acid Storm stops once more.

Starscream.

Was his deactivation also a key part of their upcoming victory?

_No. It wasn't. If anything, it just has slowed us down._

Sunstorm could have benefitted so much from the presence of the previous Air Commander and his experience, as would have the Air Forces…

But would Megatron be as focused as he is now, as determined?

_If he valued Starscream that much, why push him away?_

He knows the answer to that.

Starscream had lost faith in Megatron, had lost all hope of the promise of a free Cybertron ever becoming a reality.

As had all of them.

But instead of letting it drag him down, of becoming as jagged and lenient as Acid Storm himself, he had decided to take matters in his own servos.

By taking charge of the Decepticons and finally put an end to the useless fighting.

Not that he ever managed such a feat.

Which merits a bit of investigating, because surely Starscream could have found a way to defeat the warlord, if not to kill him, couldn't he?

A sharp punch brings the Air Commander back to reality, a servo rubbing his dented shoulder plate as he glares down at his scoffing Trinemate.

"What was that for?"

"To get you to stop ignoring me, of course. What, am I not worthy of your attention anymore?"

"Not when you're acting like a needy newspark. What was so important that you thought it necessary to attack your commanding officer?"

"Attack. Right." The yellow Seeker deadpans, optics half lit and servos resting on his pelvic plating in a stance all too reminiscent of another mech. "I was asking you if we have clearance to walk down this part of the ship."

With a look around, and a quick consultation of the map of the _Nemesis_ he has been given, Acid Storm realizes they're walking towards the engine rooms.

Not exactly where he wanted to be, but it isn't like it's forbidden either.

"Of course we do. There are no vetoed areas, least of all for the Air Commander." He answers calmly, looking at his Trinemate in curiosity. "Why?"

"Because we're being followed." He explains easily, dropping the knowledge with the same impact of a cluster bomb.

"We're what?!" He exclaims, turning around with turbines roaring in anger, and quickly locating the small patch of purplish blue sneaking into a half-opened door to an empty room.

He's never cared much for gossipers or just plain spies, so long as they're not Autobots, but now he has a newspark to take care of, a disabled Flier, a young Seeker.

And he already knows the enemy is able to sneak into the ship, despite it being undersea.

So, with a burst of speed from his thrusters, he rushes into the room and catches the tiny creature trying to sneak into the ventilation shaft, his clawed servo managing to grab it before it gets too far and throwing it to the ground, pede slamming down onto the chest plates to keep the Cassette-sized being in place—

Cassette-sized. Blue and purple color scheme. Red visor glaring up at him, scowling.

With a tired hiss of hydraulics, he lifts his weight off Soundwave's creation, but doesn't take his optics off of him.

"You better have a slagging good explanation for this, Rumble."

"_Me_?! You're the one that attacked me!" The Cassette retorts, getting to his pedes and making a show of dusting off his scuffed plating.

"You were _spying_ on us."

"So? I'm a spy, that's what we do."

"Then you won't mind if we tell Soundwave you were snooping around to prepare your new prank." Sunstorm pipes in, leaning against the open door with his arms crossed against his cockpit and a nonchalant expression.

Rumble splutters, visor pale in surprise, as he takes a step back.

_Busted._

"Was _not_!"

"Then there's nothing wrong if we tell him, isn't it?"

Silence.

And then, frame slumping in defeat, the Cassette scowls, arms forcefully crossed against his chest plates as he looks away.

"Go frag yourself."

"Want to watch?"

This time, both Acid Storm and Rumble sputter in disbelief, looking at the smaller Seeker with startled expressions.

And they're met with a smug triumphant grin on a darkened faceplate, the lights from the corridor shadowing the expression that is sharpened by his optics' yellow glow.

"Oh, your faces…" The younger mech snickers, finally breaking down laughing when the other two find themselves unable to wash away the shock. "That was too easy!"

"Frag off, Screamer!" Rumble growls, the sound echoing in their struts—

Yellow lightning streaks over Sunstorm's plating and the Cassette hides behind the Air Commander with a terrified shriek.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm—"

"Enough!" The yellow mech scoffs, the charge dissipating, but the lingering smell of ozone being more than enough warning of what could have and may still happen. "Why does everybody call me Starscream? Wasn't he the deactivated husk Shockwave was going to smelt for base materials?"

"Hey! He was a mech before he was deactivated!" Rumble protests before Acid Storm has a chance to answer, and the younger Seeker scoffs.

"Obviously. I have yet to hear anything good about him. All the Decepticons of Darkmount said was that he was a traitor and a coward."

"He _wasn't_!" The Cassette roars, loud enough that the Air Commander's whole frame shudders with the vibrations.

"And how am I supposed to know if no one _tells_ me?"

"He liked staying functioning and he wanted Megatron out of the picture, but he was _not_ a coward and he was _not_ a traitor, and those glitches from Darkmount can go throw themselves to a smelter for all they know, because it was _us_ who had to deal with Starscream and got to know him, not _them_!"

"Since when do you defend him?" Acid Storm lets out without thought, startled at the outburst of the smaller mech shaking by his pedes, fans whirring madly.

"Go rust." The Cassette scoffs, turning away as he obviously tries to recompose himself.

"Would you agree to talk over a couple of High Grade cubes?" Sunstorm suggests, calm once more and ever curious.

"And where are you going to get High Grade?" Rumble mumbles, but looks at the Flier with clear interest.

"I have my contacts." The yellow mech purrs, and Acid Storm takes an involuntary step back.

Trinemate or not, newspark or not, Sunstorm can be slagging scary when he puts his processor to it.

And the mix of Starscream's acting and Swindle's business voice is definitely something to be wary of.

Wait.

_Swindle._

"I'm not loaning you the money." The green Seeker quickly lets out, but yellow optics only brighten in amusement.

"What makes you think I'll be _asking_ for it?"

"Sunstorm—"

"I'm not _buying_ the High Grade, my dear Acid Storm."

"You're going to _steal_ it?" Rumble asks, a growing smirk on his faceplate as he turns to fully face the smaller Flier.

"No. It will be willingly given."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> So... things happened. I'm as dumbstruck as you, believe me. I don't know where and how my brain came up with that.

Last update until the holidays are over, most likely, because I'll have little to no computer time, so I decided to at least leave the story with a bit of a happy tone. Happy holidays, people!


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